In Word and Deed
by Fox Murphy
Summary: Life is one of those precious, fleeting gifts, and everything can change in a heartbeat." Alastor and Minerva find their friendship rapidly changing, and neither one is entirely sure how best to handle this new situation.
1. At Wit's End

A/N - I have officially entered the last two weeks of the semester, which means papers and finals and all that lovely college-related stuff. And from all this madness I bring you this *waves at the story below* with profuse apologies for the delayed nature of this posting. This particular story acts as a direct sequel to Falling Slowly (yes, you should probably go read that first. Else you'll be wondering why there's a Tiberius Kirk wandering around Hogwarts) and will be two parts (this chapter being part one). However, I'm pleased to say that coming soon is a much longer, epic and multi-chapter fic that will likely start appearing over Christmas Break, and I'm using this story as a sort of springboard to get there, if you will. This all has to happen for the next story to happen. Or at least to aid the plot lol. I don't much want to give away details, but I will say that it's set in 1942...which if you'll recall means a certain Mr. Riddle will be in his fifth year at Hogwarts...hintedy-hint-hint. Rest assured, the main characters will still be Ms. McGonagall and Messrs. Moody and Kirk - it's sure to be an interesting year for the three of them. Alright enough rambling on my part.

The events of this chapter take place a few weeks after the closing of Falling Slowly (so seriously, if you haven't, go read), probably around late November. Same as always, read, review, and most importantly, enjoy!

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Wand light flickered and faded, heavy footsteps echoing in the dark. The hour had reached some time well past midnight, well past curfew and well past any time that any students ought to be out wandering the Hogwarts' halls. Alastor Moody moved quickly to keep up, largely allowing himself to be dragged along and doing his best to stay quiet. The long fingers latched around his wrist belonged to the exceptionally tall Tiberius Kirk, who typically tried to face any situation with a laugh and smile. At present however, Tiberius was positively furious, something the Scotsman rarely ever managed, and Alastor had decided silence and surrender would be the best option. How precisely Tiberius had found him was a bit of a mystery in and of itself, but not one that Alastor presently felt much like attempting to solve. He had a rather strong feeling that any attempts at speaking in general would be cut off with a very sharp glare. The previous two attempts had at any rate. The wand light flared again, casting both boys into white light and shadow and waking several portraits. Alastor nodded vaguely in the direction of one particular annoyed sounding portrait of three wizards playing cards. In fact, Alastor had meant to murmur an apology until he realized that the wizards were not so much complaining about the light but about Alastor's own too-long hair and rather disheveled appearance. This seemed highly unfair, given the circumstances, and really he certainly did not think his hair was quite that bad, and that sort of talk was just unnecessary at best. Quickly reverting back to the temper that always simmered just below the surface, Alastor muttered a few choice words in the direction of the portrait, though the effect was somewhat lost as Tiberius gained speed in an apparent effort to dislocate Alastor's shoulder. The corridor was utterly empty and the hour was late and suddenly Alastor realized that he was in fact quite tired. All the evening's excitement must have finally done the job. Now perhaps Alastor could manage a decent night of quiet, dreamless sleep.

Reaching the end of the corridor, Tiberius leaned around the corner and looked both ways, just to make sure no one happened to be on the staircase. Curfew was well past, after all, and Tiberius was a prefect and would be in even more trouble than Alastor for being caught wandering the halls. Alastor did feel a certain twinge of remorse at this thought, but when no professors or prefects or even ghosts appeared, the feeling faded somewhat. The two of them had been out past curfew before. Never, admittedly, in this particular sort of situation, and always in the company of Minerva McGonagall, the third member of their little group. Of course, Minerva had really stopped venturing out after she herself had made prefect, and had stopped speaking much to Alastor himself lately, although she still seemed to get on fine with Tiberius, and...Alastor shook his head, determined not to follow that train of thought, not to keep worrying about Minerva. As the duo stood at the end of the corridor, just between the darker shadows and the open dimness of the staircase, Alastor thought perhaps he might suggest a speedy return to Gryffindor Tower. Tiberius seemed to have other ideas, however, lighting his wand and shoving the suddenly bright object into Alastor's face. Wincing at the light after so long in the dark corridors, Alastor covered his eyes with one hand and backed away towards the safety of the shadows, directly into a wall. Blinking blearily and trying to summon up the same temper that had gotten him into this mess, Alastor tried to pretend that Tiberius did not look quite so angry. The wand light cast his face into odd shadows, and in the darkness Tiberius probably looked more furious than he actually was. Or at least, Alastor certainly hoped so.

"So what brings you out so late?"

"I've spent tha past hour looking fer ye," Tiberius' voice was dangerously low, his accent heavy. Merlin, but he really was angry, Alastor realized. "I cannae believe ye...why in Merlin's name would ye..."

Fists clenched and mouth still moving, Tiberius trailed off, at an utter loss for words.

"I was out for a walk," Alastor muttered, determined not to let Tiberius guilt him over the matter. He had been out walking, and he had been out walking plenty of other nights without anyone taking it upon themselves to come looking for him. With that thought, Alastor managed to summon up some indignation over the matter, glaring sullenly up at his friend. Tiberius did not appear willing to accept this answer, however, and in fact seemed rather disbelieving.

"Really? In tha middle of tha night? Were ye sleepwalking?"

"Not really. Just...couldn't sleep," Alastor shrugged, knowing Tiberius wanted more of an explanation but refusing to give one. In all honesty, Alastor had not slept properly in weeks because Minerva had been avoiding him spectacularly and the whole issue was driving him positively mad. Alastor could not for the life of him guess why she, who had been his friend since first year, would be dodging him all of a sudden, and the constant puzzling over the matter had led to several midnight walks around the castle. Well, actually, he did have some vague idea. More than vague, really. He had a very good idea as to why she might avoid him, but Alastor sincerely hoped that this idea was not in fact true at all, and he was not about to share his theories with anyone else.

"So," Tiberius' voice cut across his train of thought, "Ye went fer a walk...and then please, please tell me ye just happened to stumble across two Slytherins who had passed out in tha hall."

Alastor frowned, raising one eyebrow and staring defiantly up at Tiberius, utterly silent. Seconds passed, the wand light shifting up and down as Tiberius waited. When no response came, Tiberius finally dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

"Fer Merlin's sake Alastor, they were seventh years!"

Alastor smirked proudly, arms crossed as he laughed at Tiberius' reaction.

"And beaten by a fifth year. A Gryffindor fifth year no less. I suspect they won't mention that to many people."

"No," Tiberius sighed, head still in his hands, "I suspect they'll just be murderin' ye in yer sleep."

Tiberius seemed to have lapsed from furious to merely frustrated, which Alastor took as a very good sign. With any luck, the matter would drop entirely. After all, Tiberius had been pulling Alastor out of fights since first year. All that had changed was that Alastor had actually started winning most of the fights he managed to start. Tiberius remained silent, wand pointing back in the direction of the empty corridor and face hidden in shadow. Alastor decided an attempt at humor was in order, if nothing else then as a blatant distraction.

"Makes you feel any better, they started it."

"Ye know, why is it someone else is always starting it?" Tiberius fixed him with a pointed glare. The wand swung around abruptly, once more blinding and bright and directly in Alastor's face. Somewhere in the distance Alastor would have sworn he heard the portraits complaining once more. "Somehow I donnae think I believe that."

Alastor scowled now, not really appreciating Tiberius' accusation and ignoring the fact that his hair had once again fallen into his eyes. The Slytherins had started the fight, whether Tiberius wanted to believe him or not. Alastor had been walking along, minding his own business, and out of nowhere two older boys had decided to harass the lone Gryffindor. Only their jinx had missed wide and crashed into a suit of armor, badly startling Alastor and giving away the two attackers. Apparently, the boys were one of the few Hogwarts students who had not heard of Alastor Moody's awful temper - or been warned that as of late, his temper was worse than usual. And at that particular moment, Alastor had been in a pretty foul mood indeed, and more than happy to vent on the two unsuspecting Slytherins. He was a fairly good dueler, and he was quick, and both of his opponents seemed to be fairly skilled as well, which made the fight all that much more fun. Alastor had resorted to a bit of trickery to improve his odds, jinxing the suit of armor to fly at the Slytherins. The armor knocked both boys down in a clashing roar of skin and bone and metal and stone, and Alastor had been just about to start charming the two boys Gryffindor scarlet when Tiberius chose to make his appearance. Tiberius had taken one look at the pile of bodies on the floor, sworn, rolled his eyes, glared quite pointedly at Alastor, and then helped his friend hide the two Slytherins in a conveniently located broom cupboard. That of course had led to Tiberius dragging Alastor forcibly away from the scene before any real explanation could be given, and Alastor certainly did not feel like explaining now. Unfortunately, Tiberius did not seem about to drop the subject.

"Look, Alastor, ye have been in a terrible temper these last few weeks. And I want ta know why."

"None of your business," Alastor grumbled, finally tiring of this conversation and trying to walk away. His aforementioned temper flared again as Tiberius roughly pushed him back against the wall, eyes blazing.

"If it's a fight ye want, it's a fight I'll give ye. And then at least ye'll know I'm serious," Tiberius muttered, one hand holding Alastor's shirt and the other leaving his wand just below Alastor's chin. The threat was a bluff, it simply had to be. Tiberius was all lanky height, angles and arms and legs, and Alastor's sturdier build surely had the clear advantage.

"It's none of your business," Alastor repeated slowly, mindful of the wand that hovered just below his chin and suddenly wishing his own wand was not currently situated in his back pocket. Tiberius did not wear the look of someone who appeared to be bluffing, but then again, Tiberius had always been good at fooling people.

"I hope ye dinnae plan on sleepin' tonight, because if ye keep this up neither one of us is gettin' back to tha common room anytime soon," Tiberius tightened his hold on Alastor's shirt, still glowering. Alastor merely glowered back, nearing the level of furious now, feeling his pulse speed up and a shot of adrenaline pound through him. All he wanted was sleep and peace and quiet and for Tiberius to mind his own bloody business and drop the interrogation.

"What exactly is it you want me to say?"

"Tha truth, that'd be a nice start," Tiberius suggested lightly. "What's gotten into ye?"

Alastor closed his eyes, ignoring the impulse to swing a punch and instead trying to determine if any possible way existed for him to talk his way out of this mess.

"I...it's just this stupid thing...bout some girl. Not important."

Tiberius' eyes narrowed suspiciously and Alastor swore under his breath.

"If it's not important, why are ye out picking fights with tha Slytherins?"

"I told you, they started it!" Alastor insisted, finally reaching out and pushing Tiberius away. Tiberius staggered slightly but recovered quickly, stepping back into place and leveling his wand with Alastor's face. The two struggled for a moment, Alastor's hand locked around Tiberius' wrist in an effort to remove the wand and the advantage. Finally Tiberius let go, and the wand hit the ground and skittered away, still lit and glowing from the floor, odd shadows rippling across the walls.

"Fine. They started it. But it's not tha first fight ye've been in," Tiberius stumbled backward again as Alastor began to shove outright, "More like tha seventh. Any other prefect had found ye, ye'd be in detention for weeks. Never mind if a professor had been out and looking."

"Thanks so much then," Alastor ducked as Tiberius swung his wand arm in a wide arc and completely missed the knee that caught him in the stomach. Breath left him in a whoosh, and his knees hit the stone floor with a painful crack. Tiberius was moving past in an effort to retrieve his wand, but Alastor saw him in time to reach out and grab hold of one thin leg. The sudden resistance overbalanced him and Tiberius fell with a thud.

"Just think, if Minerva had been out on patrol tonight," Tiberius was saying, and Alastor drew in a sharp breath, feeling his pulse suddenly pounding in his ears. He dove forward and grabbed for Tiberius, but Tiberius had already rolled onto his back and Alastor succeeded only in taking another knee to the stomach. Tiberius made no attempt at rescuing his wand, this time aiming to pin Alastor to the floor. Backlight, a bold shape against the white wand light, Tiberius stood out painfully in the corridor like the shadow of a scarecrow given life.

"Don't bring her into this!" Alastor very nearly shouted, and only a brief glance at the empty, shadowed corridor reminded him that volume perhaps was not the best option. The pair had rolled across the corridor by this point, perilously close to where the stairs began, and Alastor found his face suddenly pressed to the very cold stone floor. Old habits kicked in, fury and fighting instinct, and Alastor swung upward with one elbow, catching Tiberius in the ribs.

"She's our friend. Or at least my friend. Dunno why you started avoiding her all of a sudden," Tiberius breathed the last in a rush as Alastor's elbow connected with his ribs once again. Alastor only managed to feel angrier, pushing himself up off the floor and throwing his weight to one side, effectively throwing Tiberius to the floor and quickly rolling to follow. He grabbed Tiberius' shirt with one hand, turning his friend face up once more, his own wand now held threateningly in one fist.

"I'm not avoiding her! She's avoiding me, and I don't understand why, because I didn't do anything, it was her, or at least at first, and-" Alastor clapped his hands over his mouth at Tiberius' puzzled look. The words had left him in a rush and now he had said too much and oh Merlin this was bad. Very bad. Alastor slid backward and away from Tiberius rapidly.

"What you on about mate?" Tiberius asked quietly, the most calmly he had spoken all night, and Alastor wondered if perhaps he could outrun Tiberius and lock him out of the common room.

"I...we...you remember that night, where we got into the fight with Riddle and his friends?" Alastor shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to catch his breath and not panic. Tiberius grinned, smile bright in the darkness as he nodded.

"Oh, aye. Made for an excellent story tha next day at breakfast, that. Not ta mention tha nice black eye ye had."

"Yes...well...did you...Minerva she..." Alastor trailed off, running both hands through his hair and entirely unsure what to say next. How precisely was one supposed to tell this sort of thing to your best mate? Fortunately, Tiberius seemed to guess where the sentence had been going. At least, more or less.

"She waited up for ye. Had your wand. I remember," Tiberius nodded again, still grinning, and Alastor felt his stomach sink to somewhere around his ankles. Merlin, he was going to have to tell him. Slowly, shakily, Alastor stood to his feet, fully prepared to run if necessary.

"I sort of kissed Minerva."

Apparently the first time, spoken as barely a whisper and when Alastor had been pointedly looking at the floor, had not been loud enough for Tiberius, who had by this point regained his feet as well, to hear properly.

"Sorry mate, what?" Tiberius glanced up from dusting off his trousers, still grinning.

"I sort of kissed Minerva," Alastor repeated, eyes closed and hoping his expression did not look quite as pained as he thought it might. Much to his surprise, silence followed this statement. After a minute or two, Alastor opened one eye, then the other, only to see Tiberius gaping at him.

"Tiberius?"

Not entirely frozen, Tiberius had one hand covering his mouth and the other running through his mop of already-messy brown curls. Alastor snapped his fingers in front of Tiberius' face.

"Tiberius, really."

"YOU DID WHAT?" Tiberius reacted, finally. And very loudly, the shout echoing off the walls of the empty corridor. Alastor shushed him and Tiberius clapped a hand over his mouth once more as the pair waited in silence to ensure that no one had overheard. No warning footsteps indicated that trouble was approaching, and slowly, Tiberius peeled away his hand.

"You. Did. What?"

Alastor winced at each one, once again considering simply running for the safety of the dormitory. Unfortunately he knew full well that the safety was marginal at best, since Tiberius did in fact share the room.  "I sort of kissed Minerva."

"You mentioned that part," Tiberius said dryly. "Firstly, how do ye sort of kiss someone?"

"Well...she kissed me, really. And then I kissed her, I think. But she definitely started it," Alastor added, just in case he had been unclear about that part to begin with.

"You've got ta talk ta her," Tiberius groaned again, head in his hands, muffling his voice. "As in, soon. Tomorrow. Or today. Whatever time it is."

"I don't think she wants to talk to me," Alastor mumbled, eyes on the floor. "She's been avoiding me, in case you haven't noticed."

"Well firstly, no, I'm not helping ye corner her," Tiberius spoke before Alastor ever even had a chance to offer the idea. "You'll not drag me into tha middle."

"What am I supposed to do then?" Alastor asked exasperatedly.

"Catch her in tha common room," Tiberius suggested after a moment's thought. "Pretend you need help on homework or something."

Alastor considered the idea for a moment. He did honestly need help with an essay for Potions, so perhaps he could make that work. How had he not thought of this tactic before?

"Alright. But what if...what do I say?"

Tiberius had walked away to retrieve his wand at last, and his voice echoed down the corridor.

"Really, ye want me to tell you how to do everything?"

"Would you?" Alastor chanced. "By the way, sorry for...tackling you and all that."

"Tis fine. And no," Tiberius said shortly, brushing his robes off. "No. Just say whatever comes ta mind. Well, maybe not whatever. Donnae swear, that's usually bad."

Alastor resisted the urge to hit him again and perhaps rescind that apology as well.

"What if she...what if it was just a thank you sort of thing? You know...she was thanking me for jumping to her defense or something like that," he added when Tiberius frowned confusedly. The idea had been plaguing him ever since Minerva had first begun avoiding him, starting as a horrified sort of feeling and developing into a constant ache in his chest whenever he happened to see her. Alastor knew full well why he had kissed her. But why had she kissed him? And why had she not spoken to him since?

"Well, first ye should consider yourself lucky, because I certainly didn't get a kiss," Tiberius laughed good-naturedly, "And second, why does it matter?"

Alastor felt his stomach wrench unpleasantly even as he forced a smile and a laugh. Tiberius was supposed to reassure him, not confirm the fact that his fear was a possibility. Merlin, more than a possibility, a likelihood. Alastor began to feel faintly ill.

"Suppose it doesn't, really," Alastor murmured, tucking his wand back into his pocket and quite ready to go to bed and be done with this night.

"Good," Tiberius clapped an arm over Alastor shoulder. "Now, let's get back to the tower, please?"

Alastor let himself be dragged along again, eyes glumly on his feet, the floor, a few of the portraits, and entirely ignoring Tiberius' presence. He would talk to Minerva tomorrow, that much he could manage. And perhaps he ought to tell her how he felt, that might be worth a mention as well. Surely, the conversation would go spectacularly well, and whatever misunderstanding existed would be resolved. Then Minerva would talk to him and they would get back to being proper friends and all would be right with the world once more. At least, Alastor certainly hoped so. He was not entirely sure he would be able to stand the alternative.


	2. Slip of the Tongue

A/N - I'm am incredibly sorry for the delay. My beta, the lovely and talented Bucy, ended up getting slammed at work and thus could not get to the story until this weekend. And then of course, my stupid on campus internet died. Madness I tell you. Anyway, due to the delay, I've decided to split this into two parts (and also due to the fact that it was right massive all together). So instead of this being the end, there's one more chapter coming. I'm sure that excites everyone. Right. Anyway. This takes place that day after the events of the previous chapter. Or...later the same day, since they were out at odd hours of the morning and all. I do believe that's all I have to say so - get to reading!

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The Gryffindor common room had somehow miraculously managed to be all but empty, much to the excitement of Minerva McGonagall. After dinner the common room tended to be crowded with students, few of which would actually be studying. Most students tended to employ the common room purely for socializing, and rather loud socializing at that. Few and far between were the days when Minerva could actually make use of the common room to do her homework and not have to worry about constantly shushing noisy third years. Tonight, in a rare turn of events, she had passed through the portrait hole and discovered the room to be surprisingly quiet. One seventh year student had claimed several tables near the windows, and a couple of second years were playing chess on the plush red sofa, but the normally lively room was otherwise unoccupied. Rather excited by this unexpected opportunity, Minerva dropped her bag onto the table in the corner, just in case someone else decided to try and claim the space in her absence, and bolted for the staircase. She returned moments later with a rather bemused Augusta Prewett in tow, eager to share her discovery with someone she knew would appreciate the sanctity and silence. Or at least, she had expected Augusta to be appreciative, rather than seeming to be more along the lines of concerned.

"Where exactly is everyone?"

"Who knows," Minerva slipped into a seat, stretching her legs out beneath the table and motioning for Augusta to sit down as well.

"If you weren't still here, I'd say perhaps there's Quidditch practice," Augusta mused, depositing her schoolbag on the floor. Minerva shook her head, retrieving her Charms book.

"I don't think McGin would take kindly to me skipping, no."

"Your presence also rules out the possibility of prefects meeting," Augusta hummed quietly, apparently devoting quite a lot of thought to the emptiness of the common room.

"Anything else?" Minerva glanced at Augusta overtop of her glasses.

"Yes. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps you're too involved?" Augusta asked, dropping her own Charms text onto the table with a thud.

"Rubbish," Minerva sniffed. "No such thing."

Augusta had argued this theory for a moment before letting the matter drop, having learned years ago that arguing with Minerva was doomed to failure. Snow had piled on the window ledge and swirled around the outside of the castle, but the common room was warm, separated from the wintry world by strong walls and a roaring fire. The portrait opened and closed a few times, but none of the pink-cheeked, shivering newcomers stayed long. Most went straight to the fireplace, unwrapping scarves and cloaks and holding frozen fingers in front of the warmth. Tiberius Kirk passed through at one point, tall and gangly even beneath all the layers of clothing he currently wore. Minerva had waved hello, anxiously watching the portrait and fully prepared to bolt for the safety of the girls' dormitories if necessary. Tiberius was typically followed by Alastor Moody, if not vice versa, and Minerva had done fairly well avoiding Alastor so far and had no intention of breaking her record now. Augusta glanced up from her work, catching Minerva's frown and following her gaze to the portrait and then to Tiberius.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Augusta sighed exasperatedly. "It's not as though he's trying to murder you."

Minerva felt her face color rapidly, and she scowled at Augusta overtop of her glasses.

"That's not funny."

"Well it's also true. He's not is he?" Augusta asked, entirely unaffected by Minerva's serious-prefect look.

"No," Minerva admitted, more than slightly annoyed and eager to be off the subject. She had never actually told Augusta, or anyone else for that matter, why precisely she had been avoiding Alastor for the past few weeks. Augusta had been perfectly alright with not knowing, casually intervening whenever Minerva particularly pleaded and aiding in several escapes. Unfortunately, Augusta also seemed to have figured things out on her own.

"So you fancy him a bit," Augusta said coolly, flipping pages in her Charms book, "What exactly is the problem with that?"

Minerva gaped for a moment, thoroughly taken aback, and then remembered Tiberius defrosting himself at the fireplace.

"Don't say things like that," she whispered sharply. Augusta glanced up from her Charms book just long enough to roll her eyes.

"Really? You're going to deny it?"

"I...well..." Minerva really had not given a particular name to her new feelings to Alastor, but she supposed she did fancy him. Quite a lot, if the butterflies were any indication. But Merlin, she had been trying to keep quiet about all this. "How obvious is it?"

"Painfully," Augusta said simply. Minerva had a sudden horrified thought.

"Who else do you think has noticed?"

Augusta considered this question for a moment, still turning pages with a deliberate care that made Minerva want to snatch the book away.

"Not many people. I do like to consider myself exceptionally observant," Augusta added with a wry smile. "And you've been avoiding him quite effectively."

Not quite effectively enough, Minerva noted ruefully. True, she had not spoken to Alastor in weeks, save for passing hellos in the hallway, but she had still seen him. She had found herself watching him in classes, and she always knew whenever he was watching her. And yet Minerva could not bring herself to talk to him, to explain herself, to say much of anything. That night in the common room, after the fight with the Slytherins, she had kissed him, whether out of impulse or inclination she was still not entirely sure. Either way, kissing Alastor had just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Something had changed with that kiss though. Well, admittedly, something had been changing all year, given that Minerva had butterflies any time she was in the same room as Alastor. But the kiss had been different and natural and deeply magical and this scared Minerva to death, because she was not entirely sure what to make of all this. Alastor might have kissed her back, but Minerva guessed most boys tended to do so whenever they were kissed, and surely he could not feel the same way. Just a silly crush, that was all she had. She would grow out of it and move on and in years to come she and Alastor would have a good laugh over the matter. Nothing worth having a conversation over now, not yet. And certainly nothing worth spoiling a friendship over either. Minerva had hoped that by avoiding Alastor, the crush would just go away on its own. Unfortunately, if anything, the feeling had grown progressively stronger, and had gained a certain miserable edge.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Minerva jumped in her seat, realizing with a start that her thoughts had wandered quite badly and that Augusta was staring at her with a mild degree of concern.

"Yes. Sorry. What?"

"This just proves my point. I said, you haven't been yourself lately and I think you ought to talk to him," Augusta spoke slowly this time.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, I wouldn't know what to say to him about-" Minerva caught herself just in time, thankfully recalling that Augusta did not know there had been any incidents, much less kissing, "About anything."

Augusta nodded solemnly at this for a moment, watching Minerva. Without breaking eye contact, Augusta closed her book and leaned back in her seat.

"Have you finished thawing yourself out, Tiberius?"

Minerva had entirely forgotten about Tiberius, who at present sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, hands on his knees. At the mention of his name he jumped slightly in surprise and glanced up, sending his gangly shadow dancing across the back wall.

"Aye, more or less," Tiberius waggled his fingers experimentally. "Why?"

"I've a job for you," Augusta sighed. "A very important one."

Realizing where this was going and slightly horrified, Minerva shook her head slowly, eyes pleading. Augusta ignored her entirely. Minerva seriously considered hexing her friend on the spot.

"As long as it's important, I very gladly volunteer," Tiberius declared, pushing off from the floor easily. "What ken I do for you ladies?"

"Would you happen to know where Alastor is?" Augusta asked, smiling up at Tiberius. Slightly taken aback, Tiberius' own smile faltered slightly, and he glanced from Augusta to Minerva. Seeing an opportunity to escape this situation, Minerva shook her head again and tried a wordless 'no.' If anything, this seemed to steel Tiberius' resolve.

"Aye. Up in the tha dormitory, I think. Want me to bring him down?"

'Traitor,' Minerva mouthed. Tiberius merely grinned.

"Just send him down. The common room's about to empty out anyway," Augusta said knowingly, sending pointed looks in the direction of the lone seventh year and the two second years.

"Of course," Tiberius agreed, already walking towards the stairs, long strides covering the distance in far shorter a time than Minerva would have liked. He was almost out of hexing range. "He'll be down in a moment."

Minerva glared at Tiberius' retreating back for a moment, then shifted her glare to Augusta who unfortunately seemed to be entirely unaffected.

"You planning to disappear too?" Minerva arched an eyebrow at her friend.

"You and I both know you'd escape if I did," Augusta countered.

From somewhere above them came the distant sound of shouting, followed by several loud thumps. A door slammed, followed by footsteps on the staircase, and then Alastor Moody appeared, glowering back over his shoulder. He was in his pajamas, and his shaggy hair was messier than usual, schoolbag was slung over one shoulder and a crumpled mess of parchment clutched in one hand. Alastor stomped his way over to the sofa, grumbling to himself, and told the two second years to leave immediately. Without question the two younger boys abandoned their game, shoving the chess pieces off the board and bolting for the safety of their dormitory. Not that Minerva especially blamed them - every Gryffindor knew of Alastor Moody's infamous temper, and that his temper had been exceptionally short as of late. Minerva had a rather sinking suspicion that this shortness had quite a lot to do with her.

Augusta waited, fingers steepled on the table and smug smile on her face. Minerva went on about her work, or at least attempted to. Not much was accomplished, as Charms work was apparently quite difficult when one's thoughts continued rushing back to thoroughly non-Charms related subjects. She was panicking slightly, or at least beginning to, and she felt faintly ill. If Minerva had believed for a moment that she could escape, she might have, but she knew full well that Augusta would simply drag her back. Glancing sideways, she caught Alastor casting a furtive glance in her direction. Both of them turned red upon eye contact, hastily returning to their work. Augusta endured another few times of this before pushing her chair back and standing with great noise and importance.

"I think the problem is that I'm just not especially suited to Charms," Augusta declared loudly. "Useless magic anyway. Now if someone could perhaps give me assistance, that would be marvelous. Since it is OWL year after all."

Minerva watched Augusta confusedly for a moment, even exchanged a baffled glance with Alastor, who shrugged and shook his head. After a moment, as Augusta was returning her books to her bag, Minerva realized that the statement had not been intended for either herself or Alastor, but for the seventh year student in the corner. The student, a brunette girl, was watching Augusta and looked as though she was considering speaking.

"I'm actually rather good at Charms," the brunette said at last, even as Minerva was wishing the girl would stay silent. Augusta looked far too satisfied. "I think I could help."

"She doesn't really need help," Minerva spoke up now, desperate to avoid this trap. "She's actually quite good at Charms. One of the best in the class."

This was a lie of course, because Augusta had always been rubbish at Charms, but the brunette seemed undeterred, already gathering up her supplies. Unfortunately, Augusta seemed to have expected Minerva to make some attempt at sabotaging the plan.

"But I'll take all the help I can get. My wand's upstairs, care to come along?"

The brunette nodded, and Minerva realized with despair that there was no escape now. Crossing the room, schoolbag in hand, the brunette shook hands with Augusta, who was smiling triumphantly.

"Augusta Prewett. Honestly, I really am rubbish at Charms," Augusta whispered. "But those two need to have a private chat."

Minerva gaped, immediately thankful that Alastor had not heard and sincerely hoping the brunette did not feel as though her studies ought to have been interrupted for this sort of issue. Luck, however, did not appear to be on Minerva's side that night.

"My name's Delia Corner. And I'd be happy to help."

Both Delia and Augusta smiled in Minerva's direction, although Augusta's smile still held a definitely triumphant edge. Without further pretense, Augusta gathered the rest of her books, pointed toward Alastor and gave Minerva a very pointed look, then led Delia upstairs. Minerva swore under her breath, determined to hex Augusta at the next possible opportunity.

The common room now had only two occupants, and neither one spoke for quite some time. Minerva debated simply leaving, packing her things and retreating to her dormitory. She could tell Augusta that Alastor had been in a foul mood and not especially keen on talking. That much was believable, at least. She had just settled on this plan of action when finally, Alastor spoke.

"Minerva?"

She winced, pretended not to hear him, and then realized that such an attempt would have only worked if there was any other noise in the room at all. Regrettably, the fire was not nearly loud enough to accomplish this, and although the wind rattled the glass in the window panes she and Alastor both knew that she had heard him perfectly clearly.

"Yes?"

She was slightly startled to discover that what she had not heard was Alastor leaving his place on the sofa and halfway crossing the room. Either he was getting better at being sneaky or some of her observational skills were slipping.

"I was...I was just wondering if you could...help me with my essay for Potions?" Alastor ended with a question, not really looking as though he expected her to say yes. Whether out of effort to prove him wrong or because Minerva had simply never turned down her friend before, she rose from her seat, dropping her quill onto the table.

"Of course."

Alastor brightened considerably, straightening up as she crossed the room towards him. She stopped beside him, motioning toward the sofa with one hand and trying desperately to ignore the sudden memories that flared of the last time they had been alone in the common room.

"After you."

"Actually, I...could I ask you something," Alastor looked horribly uncomfortable, and Minerva had a sinking feeling that she knew where this was going. Part of her desperately wanted to say no, to simply work on his essay and have no conversation about deeper matters. However, a much more vocal part seemed rather oppositely inclined.

"About what?"

"Haven't seen you much," Alastor said slowly, running one hand through his already messy hair.

"Well, you know. I've been...busy," Minerva hoped the explanation did not sound as fake to Alastor as it did to her.

"Right. Right. I've just...I've been meaning to ask you, why exactly you...kissed me," Alastor's face had turned a violent shade of red, and the last two words were barely more than a whisper.

"Why I...oh. Oh," Minerva could not bring herself to say out loud all her thoughts, her logic, behind that kiss. Nothing to spoil a friendship over, she reminded herself. In all honesty the kiss had been a great and wonderful thing, but also a very sudden, very significant change. And the change, the change was what Minerva did not really understand and was more than slightly afraid of, though she would never admit the fact.

"I've just...been wondering, but if you don't want to talk about, it's fine," Alastor had begun to scowl, already assuming she had no intention of answering. Minerva considered hitting him but decided against that plan at the last moment.

"No I...I just don't really know what to say," Minerva muttered, frustrated both at Alastor and herself. She could not find the proper words for this conversation, and he could not for once in his life be patient. Lovely.

"Well, if you could say something, that'd be nice," Alastor said.

"I shouldn't have...you know...I just probably shouldn't have," Minerva shrugged, not entirely sure what to say and panicking more than slightly, the words slipping out before she could properly think. Alastor's eyes narrowed and his scowl deepened.

"Shouldn't have what?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you!"

Minerva wished she could take the words back the moment she spoke, but she was already too late. Alastor reacted as though she had slapped him, scowl slipping away as his face fell. He mumbled something too quietly for her to hear, and his expression was almost painful to look at. Minerva knew she had made a grave mistake.

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A/N (again): For the record, Part 3 is at this point finished. So I know what happens. If you're wondering as well, making use of that handy and magical review button will greatly speed along the posting. ;)


	3. Between Friends

Part 3/3. I'd like to pause here and say thanks to all the awesome reviewers *thumbs up* You guys are the best. And now, picking up directly where we left off....

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"Wait, that came out wrong, let me-"

"No, no, I get it," Alastor said slowly. "You shouldn't have kissed me. I get it."

"Would you listen to me?" Minerva caught hold of his sleeve in an effort to keep him from walking away, and once more she considered hitting him upside the head. Merlin but Alastor could be frustrating sometimes.

"What's to listen to? I think you said it pretty clearly already. Conversation's done," Alastor grumbled, either doing an excellent job feigning irritation or actually annoyed. No, not annoyed, Minerva realized with a start. He was hurt, and he might never admit the fact to anyone, but he was and this was entirely Minerva's fault. The thought caused sort of a twisting ache in her chest, and her hold tightened on Alastor's sleeve.

"It really won't kill you to just let me explain."

Alastor snorted and made some mumbled comment about how that fact was debatable, but Minerva silenced him with a sharp look.

"What I should have said was that I...I don't think...I didn't mean to, and it's not that it was bad...very nice, actually."

"Oh well yes, that's good at least," Alastor agreed, smirking now, voice dripping sarcasm.

"But I...we're friends Alastor. Best friends. And I don't want it to be like this," Minerva said slowly, sighing as she realized that Alastor had misunderstood her once more. He winced visibly, trying to pull away from her hold on his sleeve, although the effort was half-hearted at best.

"I think I understood that after the first comment about shouldn't haves," Alastor muttered. He was beginning to look as miserable as Minerva felt. Why in Merlin's name could he not understand what she was trying to say?

"No, I mean, I don't want it to be like it has been the last few weeks. Us not talking. I've missed you, you realize."

Alastor's face brightened a bit and he watched her warily for a moment, as though waiting to see if she had been joking.

"You've missed me?"

"Well, yes," Minerva did not miss the incredulous tone that his question carried.

"You're the one that's been avoiding me. Could have solved that problem easily," Alastor declared matter of factly. Minerva rolled her eyes, ignoring his smug expression.

"I didn't know what to say, and I didn't want to make it worse! As I seem to have managed to do anyway."

Minerva wiped furiously at her eyes, feeling the tears building and determined not to cry in front of Alastor. Not again. Tears were largely to blame for this mess to begin with.

"I've gone and...gone and messed this all up, haven't I?"

To his credit, the panicked look on Alastor's face lasted only a split second.

"No. You haven't messed anything up, honest. I'm the one that made you talk to me," Alastor murmured, all trace of smug contempt vanished. "My fault, if anything."

"Or," Minerva sniffed, dabbing at her eyes once more before daring to look up at Alastor. "We could blame Augusta, who concocted this meeting."

Alastor grinned and laughed at that particular idea, running a hand through his hair. The auburn locks glowed in the firelight, and he really did look rather dashing, pajamas and all. Minerva quickly ended that particular line of thought and ignored the butterflies that had taken their cue to return.

"We could. Although I think the blame's on both of us. For starting all this. Wasn't fair for me to act like it was all your fault - I didn't have to kiss you back, did I?" Alastor smiled sadly, not meeting her eyes. For a moment he had seemed relieved, whether at the sudden lightness in the conversation or at the general avoidance of tears Minerva was unsure. Either way, he began to visibly tense again as the silence dragged on a second too long.

"No. But I am glad you did," Minerva answered completely without thinking, just wanting to say something, anything to make Alastor feel better. To make herself feel better. Unfortunately that admission had been a bit more truthful of a statement than she had been planning to make, and Minerva felt her face go abruptly red. Alastor's eyes widened and for a moment he seemed quite surprised. Then he smiled, the first genuine smile he had showed all evening. Actually, that was the first real smile Minerva had seen from him in weeks.

"Really?"

Minerva resisted an urge to roll her eyes again. Why exactly Alastor needed to be doubly assured of everything she said was entirely beyond her.

"Yes," she managed to keep all trace of exasperation out of her voice. "So you see, it's not that I didn't want to kiss you. I just don't think I should have."

"But if you wanted to...I don't see the problem here," Alastor tilted his head to one side, frowning down at her as though she were some particularly complex arithmancy puzzle.

"Because we're friends Al, and I don't want things like that to spoil it," Minerva ignored his wince at her use of the nickname. He stayed silent for a moment, and Minerva began to worry that she had only managed to hurt his feelings further, which made her feel worse in turn. Merlin, but she wished this sort of conversation could be easier.

"What's a kiss or two between friends?" Alastor asked at last, more or less smiling. But his smile did not quite reach his eyes, and the way he said friends sounded odd, almost sharp. Minerva had to admit, the word felt wrong to her as well, ill-fitting almost. But Alastor was her friend, and she wanted things to stay that way. Didn't she?

"So, we're all settled then?"

"Aye. Suppose we are," Alastor nodded, holding out one hand. When Minerva merely looked at him confusedly, he mimed a handshake, grinning even as his face turned faintly pink. This time Minerva really did roll her eyes and sigh exasperatedly, knocking his hand aside and hugging him around the neck. She felt Alastor's breath catch in his throat, felt the butterflies multiply rapidly and did not dare look up at Alastor's face. Minerva had a very distinct feeling that if she did, there would be further kissing, and that was the origin of this whole mess after all, and so perhaps they should stick to hugs for now. But a kiss did not sound like that bad of an idea, especially since she still felt oddly unpleasant. The conversation had gone just fine, and Alastor was fine, and they were friends again, and everything was just exactly like she wanted. Or at least, so she thought. She pulled away first, glancing up shyly at Alastor and laughing at the bemused smile that he currently wore. Shaking her head, she stepped away and toward the table where her books and quills currently rested. Soft footsteps on the carpet told her that Alastor was moving as well, probably gathering up his own papers and not bothering to be stealthy this time.

"Ah...Minerva?"

She turned on her heels to see Alastor seated on the sofa, quite a large amount of parchment scattered around him.

"I really do need help with that Potions' essay," Alastor said, looking a tad embarrassed. Minerva managed not to laugh, crossed her arms and gave him another pointed look overtop of her glasses. Her act seemed to be convincing enough, because Alastor apologized abruptly and quickly set to cleaning up his work. Minerva abandoned her own books and crossed the room, sinking to a seat beside Alastor on the sofa. Several parchments launched skyward at her arrival, and Alastor hastily grabbed at them, face pink once more.

"I don't mind helping. Surely you know that by now," Minerva snagged the last piece of parchment, which had begun to fall perilously close to the fire. Alastor took the paper gratefully.

"Of course. I just...you know. I figured if I was going to use that excuse to get you to talk to me, I might as well use something I really did need help in. In case you actually decided to help," Alastor explained rapidly, stumbling over words as he searched his now-rumpled pile of parchments for the proper set of notes. Minerva noticed a paper jutting out from just beneath the skirt of the sofa, a paper that seemed to be covered in Alastor's messy scrawl.

"Somehow I think Augusta would have arranged for us to speak whether you decided to make use of your Potions' essay or not," Minerva bent down and tugged the paper free, handing the missing parchment to Alastor with one eyebrow raised. "Apparently I was driving her mad."

"Were you now? And why's that?" Alastor asked, smirking again and playfully curious. Minerva began to wonder how on earth she had managed to go nearly a month without speaking to him.

"I couldn't figure out what to say to you, mostly. And thus apparently I was spending too much time thinking."

"Makes you feel any better, I employed Tiberius," Alastor admitted.

"Oh! He must feel horribly put upon," Minerva laughed, imagining poor Tiberius, who hated any sort of emotionally related situation, having to deal with a worried Alastor.

"He does," Alastor agreed, at last managing to get his notes into the proper order, "Thinks I owe him Honeydukes now. I told him he ought to just consider it a public service."

Minerva laughed again, whether at Alastor's comment or at his own rapidly failing attempts to keep a straight face she was unsure. Either way, within moments they were both laughing, and Minerva was laughing so hard she was crying. Taking a few deep breaths, feeling suddenly, absurdly happy, Minerva managed to calm herself and then, before she could talk herself out of it, kissed Alastor on the cheek. He stopped laughing quite abruptly, watching her with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, stop that. You said it yourself, what's a kiss or two between friends?"

"Not exactly what I meant, but alright," Alastor conceded, murmuring the words as he handed her his stack of Potions' notes. He was at least smiling, in an absent sort of way. Minerva still felt absurdly happy, warm and safe in a way that she had come to associate with Alastor. They watched each other for a moment, and Minerva resisted an urge to brush his hair back out of his face once more. The room fell to silence, the last echoes of laughter fading into the fire's crackle, and for a brief second Alastor looked as though he might be about to speak. But Minerva knew somehow that words would break the moment, that the words would change everything in a way the kiss had not quite done. Hastily she raised the stack of notes, forcing a bright smile.

"Might as well get started on that essay, right?"

Alastor deflated a bit, his smile fading around the edges, but he nodded and leaned in to read over her shoulder as Minerva began scanning over his notes.

Comfortable quiet descended, and the position was easy, an old habit by now. Before long Minerva found herself resting against Alastor's side, his arm tucked around her shoulder. She would periodically point out key topics in the notes, or else complain about his abysmal handwriting, and Alastor at least pretended to listen and pay attention and be mildly affronted by her critiques. The butterflies had subsided, at least as much as they ever did when Alastor was in the room, and Minerva realized that she had desperately missed this closeness.

_What's a kiss or two between friends?_

Minerva entirely lost her train of thought on the notes at hand, pretending to read and hoping Alastor did not notice that she had stopped paying attention at all. Alastor was her friend, and she certainly did not mind kissing him. _And you certainly love him dearly_, she realized with a bit of a start. Not enough of a visible jump to draw attention to herself, thankfully, but enough to send the butterflies positively swirling in her stomach. Of course she loved Alastor, she reasoned, he was her friend, her very good friend. Besides, she was fifteen years old. Surely, she was too young to really be in love.

_Finite Incantatem_

_

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A/N - *clears thought* Are you bummed by the fact that Minerva and Alastor can't seem to realize that they feel the same way? Determined for them to finally get together? On a seemingly unrelated note (but it's totally related, I assure you), have you ever wondered what happened the first time the Chamber of Secrets was opened? If you answered yes to any (or all. All is also good) of these questions, then you're in luck. There's just such a story coming your way. Be on the lookout for My Soul to Keep_, coming soon and sure to keep you on the edge of your seat.


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